Posts from June 2013

June 25, 2013

Two of the shows that I cover in some detail in my musical-theater history course are On Your Toes (1936) and On the Town (1944). My students often confuse the two with each other, which is understandable, partly because of the similar titles, but also because each show represents a major step forward in the integration of purposeful dance, albeit in subtly distinct ways.

On Your Toes was a genuine attempt to bring musical-theater dance to center stage. I had an opportunity to see On Your Toes during its recent Encores! revival, and it was clear to me from seeing the show that the integration process still had a long way to go. The show features two major dance interludes. The first, the "Princess Zenobia" ballet, while impressive is fairly tangential to the plot, at least in terms of the Sheherazade-like nature of the ballet's story. And the climactic "Slaughter on Tenth Avenue" is only integrated inasmuch as the lead male character, Junior, needs to keep the ballet going to avoid being shot by a gangster in the audience. But the story of the ballet is entirely separate from the plot of the show. Admittedly, the title song features dance that is very integrated, with tappers and ballet dancers squaring off in an expression of the show's central theme: the classical versus the popular.

I also had a chance to see On the Town recently at the Barrington Stage in Pittsfield, Massachusetts. Whereas On Your Toes was a fascinating but creaky relic, On the Town is an exuberant joy. Of course, the right director can make a world of difference in staging a classic show, and the Barrington fortunately has John Rando, who whips up a briskly paced production full of energetic staging, smooth transitions, and neon-bright characterizations. Rando is at a significant advantage here, because On the Town is a much stronger show than On Your Toes, but On the Town is by no means fool-proof, as the last two Broadway revivals have demonstrated.

On the Town was really the first time that dance became the connective tissue that held a show together, which makes perfect sense given that the show started as a 1944 Jerome Robbins ballet called Fancy Free. On the Town features dance interludes in almost every song, and the dance is far more essential to the narrative than the dance in On Your Toes. For example, the "Imaginary Coney Island" ballet not only brings us into the mind of the show's central character, Gabey (we witness his innocence and his romantic longing), it also provides a humorous transition to the final major episode in the plot (Gabey thinks Coney Island is the playground of moneyed sophisticates. We know it ain't.)

The current Barrington production doesn't use the original Jerome Robbins On the Town choreography, as the recent Encores production of On the Town did. Because Robbins was so much a part of making the original On the Town successful, bringing in a new choreographic vision doesn't always work. (Just ask Ron Field, choreographer of the 1971 Broadway revival, and Keith Young/Joey McKneely, who worked on the 1999 revival.) Thankfully, Joshua Bergasse is more than up to the job, and fills the stage with an exhilarating array of imaginative patterns, replete with some genuinely thrilling lifts. Bergasse's only Broadway credits thus far are as a performer, but he really seems to be a choreographer worth watching out for.

Other than the chance to see a seminal show, the main attraction this production of On the Town held for me was the first-rate roster of Broadway performers in the Barrington cast. The sensational Tony Yazbeck returns to the role of Gabey, which he also played at Encores. If anything, he was even more appealing on the smaller Barrington stage. What a voice. What a dancer. What a looker. (Can we please get this amazing guy back on Broadway as soon as humanly possible?) Ably assisting Yazbek are Jay Armstrong Johnson and Clyde Alves as Chip and Ozzie, respectively, both of whom craft memorable, individual characterizations in parts that can easily become indistinct.

Most notable among the supporting cast was Alysha Umphress as Hildy, who puts a strong personal stamp on a role that has a long history of memorable performances from big brassy ladies (including Nancy Walker, Bernadette Peters, and Leslie Kritzer). Umphress was especially impressive in "Come up to My Place," a number whose staging was fast and fresh, without ever detracting from the comic intent of the song. Among the more mature cast members were the priceless Nancy Opel, a scenery-chewing hoot as Madame Dilly, and Tony winner Michael Rupert, who brings his forty-plus years of stage experience and a laser-sharp baritone to the relatively minor part of Pitkin W. Bridgework. (Special shout out to Boston Conservatory sophomore Jane Bernhard, making her Barrington Stage debut in the show's ensemble. Much love, doll.)

On the Town runs at the Barrington Stage through July 13th. If you're planning on going, get your tickets soon. After Ben Brantley's recent rave in the New York Times, sales are likely to be brisk. And rightly so.

June 20, 2013

Immersive theater is clearly the flavor of the month, both on and off Broadway. I'm not automatically for or against it, as long as I don't have to climb up and down six flights of stairs for 2 hours (cough, cough...Sleep No More...cough, cough). For me, it always comes down to the quality of the piece itself. A weak show is going to be weak whether I'm dancing along with the throng or seated in a box above the fray (cough, cough...Here Lies Love...cough, cough).

Fortunately, Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 is a genuinely strong show, even without the Russian "banquet" (actually, more of a light brunch when I saw the show on a Sunday afternoon) and atmospheric staging (the cast parades around on a serpentine catwalk that surrounds the audience members, who are seated mostly at cafe tables). And yet these elements add immeasurably to the pan-sensory nature of the show, and help make Natasha, Pierre more than just a solidly crafted musical. It's also an experience.

As you may have heard, Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812, after playing an acclaimed run last year at Ars Nova, has now transferred downtown to a temporary structure located under the High Line in the super chichi Meatpacking District. The show is rather steeply priced for an Off-Broadway show: $125, but remember that comes with the aforementioned "feast." Discounted tickets are available as of this writing through BroadwayBox.

Again, it's the piece itself that makes Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 such a delight. The music and libretto are by Dave Malloy, who also plays Pierre. Malloy has taken his narrative from no less a source than War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy. Yikes. Thankfully, Malloy only tries to musicalize one particular narrative thread from that formidable tome.

The program for Natasha, Pierre features both a plot synopsis and a family tree showing the relationships among all of the characters. Normally, both of these elements would be a bad sign. I mean, a show needs to work on its own, right? (Cough,cough...Les Miserables...cough, cough.) But thankfully Natasha, Pierre isn't all that difficult to follow. But that doesn't stop Malloy from having a little fun at the expense of Russian literature. He even includes in his opening number a sly nod to the the fact that War and Peace itself, and indeed many Russian novels, are notoriously overpopulated. His lyric glibly observes that everyone in Russian literature seems to have nine different names.

If you've never read War and Peace, never fear. The show makes perfect sense even if you can't tell your Tolstoy from your Dostoevsky from your Pushkin. Essentially, Natasha is betrothed to Andrey, who goes off to fight in the titular war. But while Andrey is gone, Natasha becomes entranced with the dissolute but charming Anatole. Meanwhile, the well-to-do Pierre is trapped in a loveless marriage, but provides Anatole with the money he needs to debauch, carouse, and otherwise dissipate. Through most of the show, it's not entirely clear how Natasha and Pierre will intersect, nor what the eponymous comet has to do with anything. But it all comes together, and quite well, in fact. The final scene in the show represents a moment of ravishing beauty, of quiet transcendence that was stunning in its emotional honesty.

Malloy's lyrics tend to be rather narrative, but the songs feature a nice mix of character interaction as well. I mean, this is War and Peace, right? There's a lot of exposition to get through, but it never feels labored or unnecessary. The one major misstep in the show occurs in the second act when we suddenly encounter a song for and about Balaga, the bumptious troika driver, a character we haven't seen before and won't be seeing again. But the number does have a raucous, knockabout feel to it, which is just what the show needs at that point.

Director Rachel Chavkin, in addition to creating the aforementioned atmospheric staging, uses the space to its full effect, including having the performers filter through and mingle among the audience members. She also crafts some indelible moments involving Natasha and the inexorable pull she feels toward Anatole. It seemed, though, that allowing for applause breaks and utilizing blackouts to cover change scenes are mistakes on Chavkin's part, as they interrupt the otherwise ineluctable momentum of the narrative.

The show also boasts a remarkably strong, and ethnically diverse, cast, including Phillipa Soo, who brings a wonderful innocence and palpable sense of heartbreak to the role of Natasha. As the reprobate Anatole, we have the striking and cocksure Lucas Steele, who looks night-and-day different from his appearance as Christopher Sieber's boyfriend in the sorely underrated The Kid. (Lucas, keep your hair short, dude.) One minor glitch in the cast was Brittain Ashford as Natasha's cousin Sonya. Ashford seems to be consciously affecting that sort of under-supported, raspy, Sarah McLachlan/Lisa Loeb type of sound. I guess that would be fine if it sounded authentic, but instead it felt forced. Plus, she was the only cast member singing in that style, so it really stuck out.

Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 plays through September 1st at Kazino. If you're like me and never go anywhere unless theater brings you there, it's a great chance to check out the High Line and see why people are paying waaaaaaaaaaay too much money to live between 16th and Gansevoort Street.

(Oh, and a quick note about the much-publicized cell-phone-throwing incident. Yeah, people made a hero out of this guy, but I have two words for Mr. Williamson: anger management. I hate when people text during shows as much as the next guy, but, dude, the chairs are all movable. Why didn't you just relocate rather than venting your rage at someone who clearly wasn't going to benefit from your unsolicited schooling?)

June 08, 2013

Composer Scott Frankel and lyricist Michael Korie really seem to like a challenge. The first musical of theirs to gain widespread attention was Grey Gardens, an admittedly flawed but nonetheless exquisite show based on that most unlikely of sources, a documentary, and a rather off-beat one at that. Their next show was the ambitious but ponderous Happiness, which at its core was essentially about what makes life worth living. Neither show met with great financial success, but that hasn't stopped the pair from forging ahead with even more ambitious projects.

Now comes Far From Heaven, based on the 2002 movie of the same name directed by Todd Haynes. The show is currently playing to sold-out houses at Playwrights Horizons, although based on the mixed critical response, it seems unlikely that the show will have a commercial future. That's really a shame, because the show, in my opinion, is the best thing that Frankel and Korie have produced to date. I sat transfixed by the ravishing music, the layered characterizations, the crisp direction, and the immensely talented cast.

Scott Frankel's music seems to get richer and more complex with every show. He seems less concerned here with crafting a realistic 1950s idiom than with creating a psychological milieu in which to explore the character interactions. The opening number, "Autumn in Connecticut," sets a tone of ordinary family life, complete with hints of Aaron Copland in the accompaniment. The tone starts to shift when Frank, Cathy's husband, is arrested for "vagrancy," and the song that Frankel and Korie craft here deftly plays around with time signatures in a manner reminiscent of "Daddy's Girl" from Grey Gardens. Both characters are experiencing a sudden upheaval in their heretofore balanced lives, and the effect is similarly effective and unnerving.

Frankel and Korie have also created for Far From Heaven some very complex and effective musical sequences, with song coming in and out of scenes as befits the story. Although there's lots of musicalized dialogue, it never sounds like recitative. The pair also make wonderfully effective use of diegesis, for instance when Cathy and Frank are on vacation and are dancing together at a party. The band plays a song called "Wandering Eyes" while Frank begins to notice a rather attractive young man eyeing him from the sidelines. Simple, and perhaps obvious, but nonetheless effective.

Some of Frankel's music for Far From Heaven can sometimes seem a bit too self-consciously Sondheim, but then again, these days that's a charge that gets trotted out whenever a composer shows any kind of ambition. And Korie's lyrics are not entirely immune to cliché, as when one song asks "How do you fly on broken wings?" But the score and the accompanying words are for the most part skillful and at times transcendent.

Much of the interest in Far From Heaven comes from the cast of theatrical notables, particularly Kelli O'Hara, who is remarkably touching and downright luminous as Cathy, a woman who at first seems like your typical 1950s housewife, and the always remarkable Steven Pasquale, giving a marvelously rich performance as Cathy's sexually conflicted husband. Notable among the supporting cast is the stalwart Nancy Anderson as Cathy's best friend, making an eminently credible transition from supportive neighbor to close-minded suburbanite.

Many of the reviews I've seen of Far From Heaven focus on the supposedly slow pace of the show, but I didn't see it that way. The show's libretto, by Tony-Award-winning playwright Richard Greenberg, unfolds in a way that feels eminently natural, moving when it needs to, and lingering when it wants to. Admittedly, the second act did feel a bit more diffuse than the first, losing a bit of focus in setting up husband's denouement.

And Michael Greif's sensitive direction is never less than taut. Greif demonstrates a subtle touch with the character relationships, all the more remarkable considering that the source material is an homage to 1950s cinematic melodrama. To create a sense of paranoia, Greif ensures that there's always someone watching key interactions, as when Cathy discovers her husband's struggle with his sexual identity, and finds what she clearly hopes will be solace in the person of her African American gardener, played here by Isaiah Johnson to smoldering effect. The scene in which the two hesitatingly dance with each other in a bar in the black part of town was almost unbearably tense, with darting eyes, suspicious glances, and an ever-present sense of impending conflict.

I certainly hope that Far From Heaven has some kind of afterlife, at the very least a cast recording, which Happiness unfortunately did not receive. Perhaps Finding Neverland, Frankel and Korie's next show, will find these talented gentlemen the kind of critical and popular success they deserve. And since the show just signed on the redoubtable Diane Paulus as its new director, odds are certainly looking in their favor.